


it's not nostalgia

by Zekkass



Category: Captain America, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Multi, POV Second Person, PWP, Threesome, Time Travel, kink bingo fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/pseuds/Zekkass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stark says your pre-serum double isn't likely to remember anything that happens in the future when he gets back to his own time. Stark says that the team will figure out how to send him home soon, and until then he gets to stay with you, since you're the same person.</p><p>Bucky says you two should kiss. Bucky's lucky you love him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's not nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> Pure PWP with an experimental twist - fingers crossed that it works, and that you all enjoy. :)
> 
> As usual, thanks and blame go to legete for encouraging me.

Bucky catches your shoulder and doesn't let you go; he's the one to push you into this, and because it's him you lean down and kiss yourself.

He tastes like the juice you served minutes ago, sweet and too-familiar. You'd pull back but for Bucky's hand on your shoulder and for the determined glint you see - you can guess at what your double's thinking, that he trusts Bucky just as much as you do.

"Bedroom, Steve," Bucky says in a low drawl, and when you look he's looking right at you. You nod, but you don't go before you catch his chin and kiss him.

It's irrational, this rising urge to prove to the you from the past that _yes_ , you've made it this far without losing Bucky for good, but Bucky lets you kiss him and he's grinning when you finally let go.

"Don't take too long," you tell him, and go, getting as far as the doorway before you stop and look back.

Bucky's kissing him, bent down slightly to reach him and something in you clenches: jealousy, maybe. You will never understand why Bucky turned down so many girls for _you_ , back when you were that small, and all you can think of now is this: you are the other man, the one Bucky ignores.

You're not young anymore, haven't been young in years, and another image intrudes: a recent fight, where you and Bucky had wound up fighting back-to-back, as comfortable saving each other's skins as always and that's the reason why you can walk into the bedroom and wait.

They both come in a minute later, your smaller self looking determined and nervous all at once, and you can't blame him when Bucky behind him closes the door with a decisive click then proceeds to turn him around and undo his trousers.

"Wha - "

" _Bucky_ ," you say, stepping forward, and Bucky pauses, hands holding up his trousers.

"I'm not getting both of you in here just for us to tell stories. Shirt off, Rogers," there's another grin there, one that has you rolling your eyes and giving in, because you know Bucky. He'll push, and really, right now - you've kissed yourself, and you'd never turn down the chance to touch Bucky.

Off goes your shirt as Bucky gets open pants you vaguely remember owning, and you strip as efficiently as you can, flushing as it dawns on you that what Bucky has in mind involves the three of you naked and touching.

Before you can work yourself up, though, Bucky pulls off a shirt that never fit and you are suddenly granted a too-visual reminder of how thin you were - _are_ , because the only thing separating you from the you standing there is time and a war. (Only, you think with a bitter edge, eyes automatically focusing on Bucky's arm.)

You can count ribs, but you instead watch how your blush spreads, aware that it's still the same now, that you're red all over right now, the same as he.

"It's your turn," he says to Bucky, folding his arms across his chest, and it occurs to you that he's upset.

So you take charge (it's _not_ possessiveness, you think, and you're lying to yourself) and step forward.

"Arms up," and as Bucky raises his arms you pull his shirt up and off and fold it over your arm. Before you can work on his pants you hear a sound, a soft surprised sound from yourself and you look, you look and see what he's staring at: Bucky's scars, the ugly edge where skin meets metal.

For a moment you want to pull him away, shield him from the sight of them; shield Bucky from judgments he doesn't deserve. You've learned to look at the scars and still see Bucky, and you're afraid that he won't be able to do that.

"Tell me you thrashed them," he says, squaring his shoulders. "Whoever did that to you - you beat them, right?"

"'Course I did," Bucky says, and your heart squeezes in your chest, but you're grateful for the lie, guiltily grateful that Bucky forgives you.

You finally get your hands back on Bucky's pants, and you really aren't surprised to find that he's not wearing anything under them. Not that you approve - and when you look, your alternate self looks just as disapproving as you feel - but Bucky just shrugs at the both of you, smug grin plastered over his face.

"What? I'm a commando, I go commando."

You wonder if Bucky's been going commando just so he could say that. You also shove his pants down without further ado, not dignifying the bad pun with a reaction.

"I...don't get it."

"You'll find out," Bucky says, stepping out of his pants, and you bend up. It occurs to you that you're the most dressed person in the room, between your dogtags and your pants.

You're certain Bucky will correct this, if you give him enough time, and sure enough: he drops his hands to your belt, then leans in to kiss you, a heated thing that takes your breath away as he grips your hips and you _know_ this is deliberate, meant to reassure you, and oh. Oh, Bucky.

"You don't need to," you whisper, curling an arm around him, savoring the press of skin to skin.

"What if I want to?" Bucky asks, grinding up against you as he pushes your pants down.

You can't help a gasp, just as you can't help but notice that there are thin fingers on Bucky's elbow, tugging. You almost reach out to wrap him in your arms and remind him that neither one of you will forget that he's there, but Bucky does that for you, dragging him into a kiss, hand cupping his cheek.

You go to step back, to keep yourself from acting on any territorial instincts that aren't fair here, but Bucky grabs the chain of your dogtags and holds you there while he makes your alternate self moan and gasp and begin to squirm - Bucky's let go of his cheek to run his fingers over his chest and down to his cock, and you know what that must feel like.

"Bucky," you start, uncertain if he'll let you touch or not, and he lets go of the chain to push at your chest, the cold of the metal surprising you into stepping back, and he nods, pushing again, and you trip over the edge of the bed, flail - he smirks, you see it - and you land back on the sheets. "Not funny."

"Puts you right where I want you," Bucky says as you prop yourself up on your elbows, watching as your alternate self kisses him, grabbing his shoulders.

"St - " Bucky tries after the kiss, but he's kissed again, harder, and you can see thin fingers digging into skin and metal. _Pushy_ , you think but don't say.

They're not far enough away that you can't reach out and catch your double's hip, and for a second you can't go through with it, then he twists to look at you and you can, easily dragging him into your lap and away from Bucky.

You understand that outrage all too well, the impulse that leads him to shove at you as he tries to pull up and away, but you hold on, watching Bucky, waiting for his lead.

"Bucky's in charge, buddy," you tell yourself, hoping he'll stop squirming. There are details that stand out to you, from how bony he feels to how surprisingly strong he is to how neither one of you are soft, and you know that last detail is entirely Bucky's fault. He's not helping, either, what with how he's standing and staring at the both of you with a keen eye.

"You two should see yourselves," Bucky says, tone pitched low.

"You don't look too bad yourself," you tell him, finally curling an arm around a noticeably smaller chest to hold him steady. (Something in you eases with him close, safe in your hold. All you need now is for Bucky to come close.) "What's the plan?"

"For starters? Hold him steady," Bucky says as he comes closer, pushing both of your legs apart before dropping to his knees. You swallow as he traces your thigh and wraps a hand around not your cock but _his_ , and you feel the moan more than hear it as Bucky places his lips at the tip of your double's cock.

You keep an arm wrapped firmly around his chest and reach out with your other hand, putting a hand in Bucky's hair as he licks, tongue darting. He spares a glance for you, then covers his teeth and goes down on your double.

You hold the both of them steady, hissing a breath out into blond hair as he writhes on your lap - Bucky knows what he's doing, he'd started out all those years back as over-eager and almost clumsy, but now he knows just what to do, and you hope that you're not spoiling yourself for when inevitably he goes home.

You're jealous of yourself again, catching his hands and feeling more than hearing the desperate noises that he's stifling, and when he jerks back as Bucky pulls off - your cock's caught between his backside and you, and you _feel_ that movement.

"Can't have the party ending too soon, am I right?" Bucky asks as he gets up, wiping his mouth. "Steve, put him down, careful not to set him off."

You oblige, setting him gently to the side, chasing his hands up and kissing him, a gentle sympathetic thing, because you're caught with memory, remembering too-vividly times when you'd come too soon and that was the end of the night back then.

This is how Bucky had solved that problem back then, with lots of teasing and backing off when you'd wanted to come most, and it was always, _always_ more satisfying at the end that way, and Bucky grins - you're grateful for the chance to see one of those grins again, grateful in a new way that your smaller self is here.

"On your front," Bucky says, and oh, _oh_ you know what's coming. Your cock jumps at the thought, and you go, scooting away from your double's side and getting on all fours, anticipating what comes next.

A cold finger is the first you know of Bucky behind you, and you jolt at both the chill and the slick, an automatic reaction as you force yourself to relax. It's Bucky. Who else would use _metal_ fingers to stretch you?

Bucky takes his time, letting you squirm when all you want is for him to hurry up, and when he pulls his fingers away you bite back a sigh of relief, more than ready for Bucky to hurry up and finish opening the condom - you can take it, after all, and he doesn't need to be gentle anymore. (You don't goad him, though, not today. Not when there's a reminder of all the times Bucky was forced to be gentle sitting barely a foot away.)

"Y-es," you moan as Bucky thrusts in, and you arch up as he presses in, gripping at the sheets as he steadies your hips.

"My pace," he reminds you, and oh, that's not good, you think. If he's going to treat you the same as your double and tease you, you're likely to snap and grab him and fuck him senseless. But: Bucky's in charge, you said it yourself.

But no: Bucky thrusts into you much, much harder the next time, and does it again, and again and again until you're biting back sounds and moving with him, letting yourself go with the sensations - 

And a pair of thin hands touch your shoulders, and you look up in surprise to meet your double's eyes.

He's wide-eyed and flushed and _wants_ so clearly that you ache for him and would - would trade places with him if you could. There's a groan from behind you as Bucky notices, pace stuttering before he speeds up, and you can only imagine at what your double is seeing, looking past you down at your back, at Bucky's chest, lower - you drop your head, panting, and oh: if you wanted you could lean just so and lick. You know he wouldn't last very long if you did that, and again it's the thought of Bucky that keeps you from doing anything other than shake under Bucky and try not to come before he wants you to.

"God, Steve," Bucky says, and something that sounds Russian (you won't ask) and desperate, and then a hand is gone from your hip and on your cock instead and you feel his lips on your back. "Go ahead, Steve, I want - "

You lose whatever else he says in the rush of heat, coming hard as Bucky pumps his hand and you clench around him, jerking at first back against him then forward onto your hands as you come and _keep_ coming. It's still a surprise, every time, as you expect something smaller. But you're not that small anymore, and it's not you whose grip trembles as you sink down to the mattress, and it's not you who lets go and sits to the side again, flushed and bright-eyed.

"Yeah," Bucky says, and he sounds almost gone himself as he pulls out. You turn your head, watching as he climbs up, dragging your double into a kiss.

It's all you can do to breathe as he runs his hands over thin shoulders and a too-small waist, and then he catches your double's hands, shaking his head.

"Careful," Bucky says. "I'm planning to take him for another round or two - " you bite the sheet, shuddering at the thought - "So hands above the waistline."

"He - how many times?"

"Don't know," Bucky says, sounding satisfied as he bends down to kiss at your double's shoulder. "Haven't gone long enough to find out."

"Bucky," you say, and it comes out more a whine than you want it to.

"Let me know when you're hard again," Bucky says, cheerful as the sun, leaving marks on your double's neck. Marks that will probably bruise, you think, breathing out. It shouldn't be as arousing as it is, to think that Bucky's still thoughtful enough to leave marks below the collar and still possessive enough to leave marks at all.

"S-Still hard," you manage, and Bucky knows, he laughs with his lips inches from your double's chest, and you see that shiver.

"I," your double starts, swallowing. "When do I get to - "

Bucky cuts him off, pushing him back down against the bed. "Not last," he promises, pinching a nipple between his fingers. "It'll be a while, but - trust me, I remember how this goes."

You tremble on the sheets, breathing as they touch each other, and you let your fingers slip down under you, gripping yourself. You're more than ready for Bucky to come back and fuck you again, but you hold tight as Bucky licks and kisses his way across your double's chest, and you listen to the quiet gasps as he drags his nails across sensitive skin.

You want Bucky to do that to you, you think.

Bucky's being gentle with _him_ , treating him as if he were fragile (you think back, remember a night where Bucky sprained your wrist, an accident - it still took you over two weeks to talk Bucky into touching you again) - and you don't miss it, not precisely - but Bucky's expression is tender in a way you realize you haven't seen since before you both went off to war.

"Bucky, come on," and they both pause, stopping to look at each other, "You're not going to break me."

Bucky looks your way just as the thought strikes you, that it's the same thing Bucky told you the first time you touched each other after the serum, and you must be thinking the same thing: his eyes are wide, and you reach out to touch him, a quick brush of your fingertips across his arm.

You push at his shoulder, a gentle nudge: go on.

"You asked for it," Bucky says, bending to kiss him again as you lie back on your side, head propped up and somehow calmer, ready for Bucky when he comes back.

The details fade together as Bucky bites and licks and explores your double's body, making him twitch away as Bucky re-finds ticklish spots and you note how his hips rock, how Bucky forces his hands down to the bed, gripping his forearms with what is probably too much pressure and while you want to reach out and tell Bucky to gentle up, the time for that is long past, and you don't need to think far to remember how angry you would have been at such treatment.

You run your fingers over your stomach and cock, gentle touches that don't do anything to satisfy, just enough to remind you that soon you'll be on your knees again for Bucky.

Bucky blows hot air over your double's cock and you wince, hoping that Bucky's not pushing it too hard, but no - you hear a whine and Bucky forces his arms down again, leans up over him, kisses him again.

"Don't touch yourself or I'll make you suck Steve off," Bucky says, and you jerk at the suggestion, involuntarily picturing blond hair between your legs.

He takes it as a challenge, you see it the moment Bucky lets go, backing away from your double, and you bite back a warning. Bucky _will_ go through with his threat, and you - you want him to.

You bite your lip as your double defiantly wraps his hand around his cock. Bucky pounces almost as soon as he does, grabbing his hand and pulling it off of himself.

"You _could_ have just offered," Bucky says, amusement apparent in his tone as he manhandles your double up. "I get it, I know how hard it is not to want to taste him - "

"Bucky," you interrupt, shifting onto your back, legs spread. "Are you just going to sit back and watch?"

"Hell yes I'm going to sit back and watch," Bucky says, grinning.

"I want," and you see your double swallow, his jaw set, determined to get his way, "I want Bucky to myself. After."

You can't tell him no. Not when you know the full weight of what's coming for him and Bucky when he goes back in time to home. You can't tell him yes, because you can't forget that tender expression on Bucky's face and you're exactly what Bucky turned down to take your smaller, fragile self home.

"It's Bucky's call," you say, breathing out as he puts his hands on your thighs.

"I'm not picking between you two _now_ ," Bucky says, moving up to look at the both of you.

"You're gonna have him back tomorrow," your double says, stubborn. "And the night after that."

Which...is a good point. Whatever jealous urges have been driving you, the fact remains: Bucky's not going back with him, and he's not going anywhere, not if either of you have any say in it, and you _know_ this.

You're still fighting, of course, but you both have each other to watch each other's backs.

Bucky's thinking something similar, you can tell, and there's desperate hope in your double's eyes, hope and want. You don't have to guess when you know: back then, back when you were holding onto Bucky with only a scrap and a prayer, with the war taking him beyond your reach - if you had seen the future, had seen that you would somehow keep Bucky - 

You're in a position to give yourself a taste of that future, and you're suddenly angry at yourself, that you hadn't realized this sooner. As much as you like the thought of him between your legs, it's not the _right_ thing to do.

"I can hold Bucky down for you," you volunteer suddenly, causing Bucky's head to jerk up in surprise.

You watch yourself turn redder at the idea, swallow thickly, and nod.

"What - Steve, I thought we'd agreed that this was my show," Bucky says as you pounce, and for a short few minutes you grapple with him, intentionally rub yourself against him as you both fight to press the other into the bed.

It's almost a serious fight but for the presence of your double sitting at the edge of the bed with his jaw dropped, and you both are careful not to make a kick in his direction, or worse.

You finally pin him, both arms held behind his back with his face pressed into the mattress, and he gasps out an 'uncle!, jesus Steve, uncle!'

You haul him up onto his knees, still holding him securely, and look to your double with a grin. "He's all yours."

For a second he doesn't seem to know what to do, gaze flicking from you to Bucky, eyes wide, and then he crawls over; puts a hand on Bucky's chest.

You press a kiss into Bucky's hair and tighten your hold when he twitches. You know he's not going to fight, but you know it never hurts to remind him who came out on top today. (You don't always win, despite your advantages, partly because Bucky's genuinely good at hand-to-hand combat and partly because he's a dirty cheater when he wants to win.)

He grumbles at you, tilting his head up, then jolts and bumps his chin on your double's chin when he moves in to mouth at Bucky's neck.

"Sorry," he mutters, and leaves his head tilted back against your shoulder, mouth quirked. "You two are gonna kill me, jeez."

A moment later he jolts in your grip again, making a sound, and your double leans back, grinning.

" _Bit_ me," Bucky gasps, and you just look at the marks Bucky left all over your double, some of which are going to bruise, and you look at Bucky, eyebrows up.

The angle isn't very good, but you can see the face he makes anyways.

Your double leans in again, exploring Bucky's body at his own pace now, running careful fingers over scars, tracing old wounds you don't know the origins of. (You won't ask, not for that, and someday Bucky may tell you...but then again he may not, and that's okay too.)

"It doesn't hurt, right?"

Bucky nods, shifting. "Sometimes they ache," he admits, which is something he's never admitted to you.

And you - your double looks angry, running fingers around the scars, and then up to the edge of Bucky's shoulder, where skin meets metal, and you can tell that he wants to ask, but won't. ('Don't tell him spoilers,' you remember Tony telling you. 'Just because you don't remember the trip doesn't mean he won't, and we don't want a paradox.')

At the tug you release Bucky's metal arm, letting your double carefully unfold it and run a hand down the length of it, and your grip on Bucky's flesh arm tightens more, enough that he pokes you for it.

"Sorry," you whisper, eyes still on where your double is peering at the star, touching around it. Whatever he's thinking, whatever judgments he's forming - 

Oh.

You bite your lip as your double flushes and dips his head to kiss metal fingers, and Bucky makes a low sound, clearly just as riveted to the view as you are.

"Can you feel anything?"

"Doesn't matter," Bucky says, pulling your double close and kissing him firmly. You put your free hand on Bucky's hip, rubbing a small circle there.

Your double looks dazed when he leans back from the kiss, mouth open, and Bucky leans in for another one, quicker this time.

"Steve, let me go," Bucky says, tugging at your hold. "I want to touch."

You don't let go, looking instead to your double. He swallows, and nods: you let go. Bucky immediately drags him into a hug, and all you can do is cover a smile.

A moment later Bucky's being hugged back, and then they're falling back on the bed, Bucky flopping down on his back and taking your double down with him.

Bucky rolls his hips up against your double's, rocking against him, and you hear the gasp as Bucky grips his sides, keeping him balanced.

"Hang onto me," he says, and looks towards you. "Steve, c'mere."

You nod, tucking up to Bucky like he indicates, making yourself comfortable.

For a moment it's quiet as they rock against each other, and you reach over to run a hand over Bucky's chest, turning towards him.

He swats at your hand, and reaches, gripping your cock - you push up into his hand, breathing in hard. There's been almost too much teasing going around and you were promised more twice over, and it's a relief to have Bucky's hand on you now.

There's another gasp - your double is quieter now, not that he was loud to start, but he's staring at Bucky as if trying to memorize the view and he's biting his lip, hips still moving against him.

"Here," Bucky says, and uses his free arm - his _metal_ arm to grip both of their cocks.

You're too busy pushing into Bucky's hand to really take in their movements, too busy grabbing at Bucky's side, but: you can't do anything but hear 'Steve, oh god, _Steve_ ' as Bucky jerks himself off too.

You also hear the soft 'oh' from your double, and he's wide-eyed, and you understand that, you get that, you know what Bucky looks like when he's writhing under you, and if anything age has only made the sight better, if not bittersweet.

You cover Bucky's hand on your cock, encouraging him to move faster, biting your lip again as you hear Bucky call your name again. When you look at them, it's the mix that gets you, the painfully obvious youth of your double contrasting with Bucky's scars.

There's a quiet sound you've never heard from the outside before, a low whine - Bucky's name, almost whispered - and you watch him come, mouth open, body arched. Bucky lets go of the both of you to secure him, to keep him from falling, and you'd regret the loss but not when your double is curling into Bucky's chest and shaking, overwhelmed.

You reach out to put a hand in his hair, a reassuring touch along with Bucky's hold, and he tilts his head, looking at you.

"Thank you," he says quietly, and you shake your head.

"Both of you saps - " Bucky starts, then groans and lifts him enough to kiss him, deeply, and then you're holding yourself as Bucky shifts him over onto you.

He's not exactly comfortable to hold, all bones, but he's pliant, happy to sprawl on you, and you both watch as Bucky grips himself as he slides down, putting his other hand on your thigh. He's trembling, a little motion that gets you to help, to shift your double so he won't accidentally kick Bucky, and you tug at Bucky's hair, gentle.

"I don't have to come first," you say, and, "In me?"

He swallows and gets up, grabbing a condom before crawling over and positioning your legs over his shoulders as he pushes back into you, a motion that makes you gasp.

But you're careful: neither one of you is going to hurt your smaller self as he drifts sleepily half-on and half-off your chest.

"Bucky," you say, and he thrusts into you, a hard motion.

"Fucking finally," Bucky says, "Steve, hold on."

"Y-yeah," you manage, as you think: _hold on to what?_ but it's too late for that as Bucky starts speeding up, harder and faster. All you can do is lie back and take it and there's a burn from how he didn't stop to get lube, but it's good, it's something you can take.

It gets better when he starts stroking you again, matching rhythm with his thrusts, and you lose thought, coming hard into his hand, maybe calling his name (you aren't sure) and it feels good, so good.

Bucky comes with a shout sometime while you're just barely aware of anything other than how good it feels, the heat as he comes in you.

You sprawl back, boneless, and barely pay attention as Bucky pulls out and away, and you're moved, pushed until Bucky's got room to curl up against your side, and you close your eyes, sated.

You drift, comfortable with them, and it's a long time before Bucky speaks up.

"God I miss little you sometimes," he says into your shoulder, but you both hear it. You exhale, ready to go for levity - as your double speaks up.

"What, _why_?"

"He likes being able to push you around," you say dryly, not really serious.

"Of course I like being able to push you around. You're built like a brick wall now, you'll break my arm if I try to pick on you," Bucky says, prodding at your chest.

"I wouldn't break your arm," you say, but that's not it, is it? Bucky's no bully, and any pushing - you lean over, kiss him. Pushing leads to this kind of situation, where the bed's a mess and you're all collapsed on each other.

"What was that for?" Bucky asks, and you just grin.

"You can still push me around," you say. "We're in bed now, aren't we?"

"Then - why?" Your double sits up, a hand on your chest for balance. "Why would you miss me?"

"You've got it good," Bucky tells him point-blank. "Better than you know."

Your double is clearly dubious: "That's not true. And that doesn't..."

"You remind him of back then," you say, quiet. "You remind both of us of what it was like before the war."

"But - unless I'm missing something, you're both..." He pauses, gestures to you, to the room. "You don't have to worry about breakfast, right? And you're - better off than we are. You're still _together_. You don't...don't miss it. Or me."

"...oh," you murmur. "Good point."

"I miss it," Bucky says, moving to sit up. "I miss _you_ , Steve."

He's put his hand over to cover his shoulder, over the star.

You should stop them, you realize. So you sit up too, and twitch as you feel what Bucky did to you. You're going to remember this night for at least a little while, before everything heals up.

"You do - "

You scoop up your double, up over your shoulder, and go to get off the bed, listening to him squawk in indignation.

"We're going to clean up, and you're changing the sheets," you say. "Then we're going to bed."

When you look back Bucky flips you a sarcastic salute and gets to it - good for him. You just walk into the bathroom, carrying your double. You're going to have to apologize for it, you know that, but it's worth it to break up that conversation.

You set him down in the bathroom, and hold his shoulders.

"Steve," you say, and how weird is that? "I need you to listen to me."

He nods, looking up at you. You try to think back, try to remember when you would have been jealous of yourself.

"There's a lot of things I could tell you, to try and change what happens to the both of us," you start, "but I don't think either one of us wants to risk missing this. Just...believe me when I say that Bucky's missing you out of nostalgia. He's not going to say it, but I think he misses looking out for you." You almost smile, but you know how much that reminder must hurt. "But he's wrong. He still looks out for me now, and he's saved my skin more times than I can count."

He looks down, and you tighten your grip, just a little.

"You get to save him," you say, and force your thoughts away from the train, back to that table Bucky was strapped to. "If you're not there, he's not gonna make it," and you have to dial it back, have to bring it home. "You know how much he'd hate that."

"Yeah," he says, looking at you again, clearly curious, clearly thinking of Bucky. "...I get to save him?"

"Count on it," you say, and finally let go of him. You don't look as he rubs his eyes, instead getting a washcloth and wiping yourself down, a quick horsebath so you can get back to bed.

"Thanks," you say suddenly, looking back towards him.

"For what?"

"We...aren't too badly off, are we?" You say, and he just looks around the room, to the obvious excess of towels and the good bar of soap in the shower. "We shouldn't forget that."

"You're welcome," he says, taking a cloth.

"When you go back - " You start, and stop.

"...What?"

"If you remember this - try and sketch him for me, will you?"

He looks at you, head tilted, then nods. "Sure thing."

You reach out and squeeze his shoulder, then take a towel and go back to the bedroom, thinking of one thing: you may not have the original sketches, but you should try to draw him from memory.

He won't like it, you think, and stop by the bed. Of course.

"Steve?" Bucky asks from the bed, somehow already cleaned up and on clean sheets.

You hold up a finger and go to the dresser, getting your sketchbook.

"Should've done that sooner, Rogers."

"Shut up, Bucky," you say, sitting on the bed, flipping to an empty page. There isn't much time before Bucky will interrupt (he'll pointedly turn off the lights on you) but there are images to get on paper - you sketch loose and fast, images of your double kissing Bucky, images of yourself - you stop, and try a duplicate of one of the sketches with Bucky and your double, but this time with the scars gone, the tension lines on Bucky's face gone.

You look between the two sketches, then close the sketchbook and turn back to look at Bucky.

"What're you looking at?"

"You," you say, and get a groaned 'sap' in response, which is just how it should be.


End file.
